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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497821">you will understand why storms are named after people</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBizarreHairTrio/pseuds/TheBizarreHairTrio'>TheBizarreHairTrio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>let the ocean take you into deadly embrace (one piece x the lobby crossover) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece, The Lobby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Crossover, Gen, Judas-centric, Not Beta Read, Will of D, also i don't MEAN to be mean to cora-san, am i the only one that's like. weirdly fond of him, and i mean that BORDERLINE LITERALLY, anyways round two of a fic that vaguely alludes to the origin of devil fruits, as in lore stuff concerning this universe in general, because. judas god of storms and d will bring a storm..., d carriers are storms in human skin, i like lore but sometimes i just can't, i literally don't call any of them by name, i love her so much. she's amazing, i mean he sounds like an ASSHOLE but i like him, it should be. fairly obvious though so, it's just that i have plans for the celestial dragons, like. SORTA literally for my purposes here, maybe one day i'll actually write a detailed fic on that, or nah??, reworking the lore of one piece to fit my crossover universe??, should i be tagging character death because. rouge and roger, so basically. i'm taking the "d will bring a storm" thing, take my very vague rouge headcanons, try and guess who is who!, why was there no available tag for rocks d. xebec???, wow okay so the tagged characters, you bet!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:28:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBizarreHairTrio/pseuds/TheBizarreHairTrio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because 'D' will definitely, bring forth another storm!" - Trafalgar D. Water Law</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>let the ocean take you into deadly embrace (one piece x the lobby crossover) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you will understand why storms are named after people</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The will of a letter, says they who are the storm. How curious they are, humans who herald storms of their own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The giant is soft; shy and timid, they who are the storm dismiss him, turning away. They will find no vengeance here, no violent storm; only the spinning winds of hope in the heart of a girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next is vicious, human and greedy; they watch him idly, curious of his ambitions. He makes them laugh, thunder booming, at the chaos he sows, the false gods he strikes down. They're gleeful at his crew, their discordant nature and disagreements between them. The conflict festers, makes their lightning strike sharper, their winds bellow in inhuman laughter. They follow his storm, his wicked ambitions and greed making for a screaming hurricane, one that tears all to shreds. He falls, falls hard, to a pair of storms in their own right, just dipping in their own power, and they who are the storm are pleased with his impact, the deadly legacy he's left behind. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>howl</em>
  </b>
  <span>, at the world that dares, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dares </span>
  </em>
  <span>deny his existence, his violent storm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>seething </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the way they erase his mark from the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one who will be a Marine is strong, raging and boisterous. He does not bring chaos in the way they like, his storm contained in a way they despise. He swears by Justice, and they observe, not quite pleased but not quite disgruntled as he makes his oath to uphold it, she who is the ocean as a witness as well, raging storm and unknowingly cruel ocean marking his skin. They let thunder rumble, glad for his oath but frowning on the lack of disharmony he leaves in his wake, spoiled by the previous, chaotic storm. But they learn to appreciate this one, as he holds by his oath. Justice is not always akin to retribution, but they smile when the definitions align. This one is steadfast; a steady storm, not one that brings discord, but one that stays constant, and they who are the storm treasures this man who holds fast to his oath, even in face of family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The would-be King does not impress them at first; he is wind, free and encompassing, and he holds the gift that is of she who is creation and he who is life. He doesn't feel like one of theirs; though he is a storm, he basks in the glory of those other than them. But the would-be King tears through a town for a slight against his nakama, and they who are the storm go ah, there is that which makes him mine. He is vicious in retaliation, unforgiving to those that slight him and those he calls his, and they adore him for that, sweep through his hair and call him dear for that. He hears them at times, in the rumbling storm and screaming winds, due to the gift that is the voice of all. They laugh at his exploits, at the chaos he sows in his bid for freedom, and they cherish him for it. They observe his clashes with the oath-holder and smile, as two storms meet to tear each other apart. And when the King dies, no longer would-be for the invisible crown that sits on his head, they laugh with the strike of lightning and the pouring rain, as he delivers chaos to the world with his last words, in defiance of those that seek to silence him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl is loved, they think to themselves, twisting their clouds and gales. She is loved and she is lovely; playful and merrily malicious, they smile at her, tug on her curls with their winds and remember why they cherish their tricksters. She's a whirlwind of her own, dragging those in her wake into her lively pace, sweeping them off their feet and into her tune. She sows her own chaos too, quick to defend those who are hers, vicious in retaliation to wrongdoers she despises. She's playfully cruel, vindictive and wicked, eager to exact pain and misery on those she believes deserve it. When she meets the would-be King, they laugh, observing the meeting of two storms, one vicious and one in awe, and they adore them both in their own way. Thunder rumbles and winds howl as they watch, watch two storms come together to beget one anew, one small and waiting to rage on his own. Rains fall and fall hard when the whirlwind she is dies down, and they who are the storm cup the little firestorm in their winds as the downpour surges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This one is fierce, solemn and stern; they see his maniacal grin and laugh wickedly, knowing this will be a thunderstorm for the ages. He is vicious, despising of the false gods, and he does not seek glory or power for himself; he does not seek freedom for him and his chosen few. This is a man who </span>
  <em>
    <span>booms </span>
  </em>
  <span>with revolution, who gathers all eager to retaliate against the broken system and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tear it down. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eternal punishment for those that seek to displace they who are the storm and their fellows; they smile and grin with the crackle of lightning, for this is a man with </span>
  <em>
    <span>destiny </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his shoulders. They quiet suddenly, storm turning inward, as he consumes the fruit of the heart of a devil, gaining powers of storm, a mere shadow of their own. They let themselves laugh, knowing not to hate him for letting his heart be cursed; this power was not sought out for greed, just merely a means to an end. They let him play with his storm, at times grabbing hold of it for themselves and grappling with him, amusing themselves with his looks of surprise. He cannot hear them, for all the leeway his now cursed heart gives him in their domain; they send raging winds to him, conveying their laughter in the only way they can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The outcast sits under the light of the moon, and they who are the storm billow soft winds about him; they may be storms and chaos and discord, but they are patron to outcasts as well. They twist about him, trying to soothe his loneliness; but they are cruel in nature, and sympathy is foreign to they who profess apathy. Where is your passion, their thunder booms. But he doesn’t hear them, their downpour of an outcast. He’s not much of a storm, but his lack makes him no less theirs, even if he seems to belong more to he who is the night. But he finds his storm, lets it seeth below the surface, and they smile at the way he feeds it, slow and steady; he might be a stormy night, but a storm nonetheless. He finds destiny, seeks kingdom, makes plans and plans and plans, and they dismiss the twisted roll of themselves that has nothing to do with their building storm. Their little night storm speaks chaos and discord, greedy for power and believing feverishly in his destined throne. They humor him, let him think he knows his own destiny, and bask in the anarchy he plans for, remembering the greedy hurricane they followed with delight. He seeks power; a devil’s heart shrouded in darkness, he kills and betrays for. The outrage they witness on the ship, the vengeance sworn and retribution called, makes them grow quiet. But they let lightning fall, whisk away to follow their night storm, after storms and raging ocean mark the skin of the firestorm who swears revenge on the greedy night storm. They watch him run rampant, watch him sow chaos and preach of dreams and his own destiny, and they call him dark clouds, an omen. He will shake the world, for better or worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Happy, is what they see next. This one is happy and kind, compassionate and loving, and they wilt, grow quiet. They turn away; this child and his family, for all that they are destined to herald a storm, do not interest them. But then a white city </span>
  <em>
    <span>burns, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they who are the storm </span>
  <em>
    <span>laugh</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a kind child’s heart grows cruel and cold, swearing vengeance against the world that let his be destroyed. They watch him eagerly as he grows more hateful, seeking retribution against the entirety of the world; he’s a snowstorm, cold and cruel and vicious in his ways. They frown at a fallen false god as he thaws the snowstorm’s heart, winds seeking to trip him up and howl at him for daring to contain the little one’s storm. Lightning strikes in a snarl; they know who he’s descended from, and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>despise </span>
  </em>
  <span>this clumsy false god for quieting the snowstorm’s vengeance. But the snowstorm’s heart becomes cursed as a devil’s heart is forced down his throat, and their winds scream at the defilement, hating the clumsy false god for forcing this curse on him. Even as the fallen false god dies, they bury him in a blizzard, seething with rage, before wrapping their crying snowstorm in warmer, softer winds. They watch, spellbound, as he returns to swearing vengeance, this time against the false god’s killer, and they smile to themselves; at least that false god was good for something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The firestorm is known to them since the moment of his conception; they wrap him in warm winds and look on at the progeny of the King and the whirlwind. His progenitors are dead, but the oath-holder takes him, shelters him, and they watch them both, man and child. He’s given to bandits, thieves and plunderers unknowing of how to care for a baby, and they huff, sending a thunderstorm to the oath-holder’s ship to express their displeasure. The little firestorm doesn’t know their voice, when not carried on claps of thunder and howling winds; they let themselves drift away, knowing their storms will only make him cry. He’s cold and rude when they drift about him next, hating his father and loving his mother. They croon to him, the little outcast who doesn’t think he deserves to live, hating the world in the same breath; they want to tell him of a father vicious to people who have wronged his nakama, a mother playfully cruel and endlessly vindictive. But he can’t hear them, lacking the gift of she who is creation and he who is life that his father held. They snort, coldly amused at how the King is called demon; they laugh at the thought of the King as one of their demons. He was theirs as a storm, not as a demon. The firestorm’s raging is directed inward, self-hatred festering, and they frown, brushing winds through his hair, but unlike his father, he knows not of their existence. When his sworn-brother leaves, he wails, and hates and hates and hates; they’re pleased with his vengeance, but curse their inability to tell the firestorm his sworn-brother is alive, sheltered in the storms of the stern thunderstorm who crackles with revolution. He leaves, chasing a meaning to his existence, whirling and raging and seeking a reason, anything that declares he has the right to live. They watch him rage, watch him seek to take the head of the earthquaker, and are pleased with the way he finds a place in the earthquaker’s family. His storm turns outward more, seeking to protect, spewing his hatred to the world when an almost false god crosses his path. His vengeance burns brighter, hotter and spitting flames, as the traitor night storm murders a brother and runs. They hover, conflicted, but as their firestorm swears a promise-oath of vengeance by the name of she who is the ocean and they who are the storm, they clasp hands with the ocean and mark his skin, let violent storms and raging ocean seep into his body, binding him to his promise-oath. Don’t break it, the wind whispers to him as they smile grimly. I won’t let you become an oath-breaker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the little tempest is born, they go quiet for only a moment. Their false god hating thunderstorm has a progeny with a great destiny, and they laugh, soft and muted like the rolling storm clouds. He’s the calm before the storm, the split second moment before lightning strikes, and they watch him, silent and waiting, thinking of the King. He’s less of a vicious, violent hurricane; more of a tempest waiting to become a hurricane, sweeping all in the chaos of his existence. They laugh helplessly, watching him curse his heart unknowingly, watching a red haired storm-but-not plant the straw hat crown of the King on his head. They wrap around him with roaring winds, let thunder boom in approval; he is the new would-be King, says something more than destiny. It sounds like a fact of existence. He isn’t one for vengeance, their little tempest; he understands anger and hatred when his sworn-brother’s ship goes down to the whims of a false god. His lack of it takes away nothing; they can wait for him to understand. And he does, eventually; his little tempest grows into a raging hurricane, righteous in the defense of his friends, and they who are the storm laugh, thunderously approving, as he orders his sniper to shoot a flag down, as he strikes a false god down with his fist, uncaring of consequences. He seeks his own revenge, never letting anyone get away with whatever they’ve done, and they adore him for that, loving his ways of getting even, of sweeping everyone and everything into his chaotic hurricane. He is chaos with his own brand of retribution, stirring up trouble and causing upheavals in his wake, destined to bring a storm that will bring the world to its knees; for he is the newest would-be king, and the world is his to conquer.</span>
</p>
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